


Be a Little Selfish

by FandomLife54



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Is a Good Person, Curses, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Guilt, Idiots in Love, Living Together, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sleep Deprivation, Steve Needs a Hug, Survivor Guilt, Talking, Use Your Words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLife54/pseuds/FandomLife54
Summary: “Please don’t make me say it…” 
“You talked to Wilson for five hours straight yesterday and last night you finally got some sleep. It helps, Steve, I have a therapist too in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Talking to a therapist is not the same as talking to you.” 
Bucky seals his lips at that, something dark passing over his eyes. Steve sees the way the tension bleeds out of his shoulders and hopes that means the end of this conversation, but then: “It’s me isn’t it? Whatever is messing with you so bad has to do with me. That’s why you won’t say it.”
His voice is so destructively gentle, Steve feels a thousand needles prickle against his skin, horrified. 
Or: Steve hasn't been sleeping and won't tell Bucky why. Fearing he is the problem, Bucky offers to leave. What comes out is survivor guilt, self-depreciation, and some revelations they both needed to get off their chest.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll!! Man, I haven't posted in forever but funny enough, it's not because I haven't had any fanfic ideas. I have over a dozen almost-finished fics just waiting to be completed. Instead of finishing those, which I started months ago, I wrote this little fic in two days. Hope you like it. If you don't, constructive criticism is welcome. I am trying, though, so please be gentle. Like I said, though, hope you like it. Enjoy!

Bucky pads around their apartment, fuzzy socks pleasant and conticent. His metal fingers clink against ceramic mugs, all bright and personalized with Steve’s artistic touch. Coffee drips slow and the window screen behind their curtains is just barely starting to shift from pitch black to morning blue. The world outside lighting slowly but surely.

A shift in the atmosphere has him turning, watching the graceless blond saunter his way into the kitchen with a yawn he failed to cover.

“Morning,” Bucky sips his drink, eyes gazing over the rim as he hands Steve his cup. He takes it gratefully and downs the whole thing in one go with a painful swallow. “Rough night?”

Steve’s exhaustion turns fierce for a second but the moment his head snaps up to look at Bucky, it falls away into a tired frown. Something about it doesn’t sit well in the sergeant’s stomach.

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says through a sigh. “You wanna go for a run?”

“Steve,” Bucky sets his mug down with a clink, eyes weary, “you look about ready to collapse. You should try to get some sleep before some big bad comes knocking and you have to take care of it.”

“I said I’m fine.” He moves to walk away but Bucky catches his elbow.

“You’re not fine. There are bags under your eyes. _Shadows_. I got serum in me too, Rogers. I know how long it takes for those to form with enhanced healing. When’s the last time you slept?”

“It doesn’t matter, just drop it.”

“I won’t.” Bucky grabs both his shoulders and turns his body to face him. “When you first found out about my nightmares, you wouldn’t just drop it. You helped me, even if I didn’t want it ‘cause it made me feel so damn useless and weak. But you said it didn’t matter if I didn’t tell you what they were about, so long as I acknowledged they were happening. That I would at least consider, _really_ consider, talking to _someone._ Remember that?”

Steve nods, a curt motion of his head.

“Right,” his hands drop. “Then take your own advice. Talk to Wilson. Romanov. Banner. Barton. Stark. Someone, Rogers. They’re your friends, I’m your friend. Let us help.”

…

Over the next week, the shadows beneath Steve’s eyes only grow darker, deep purple bruises against pale skin, paler than usual. Bucky counts the minutes; the quick power naps, the brief crashes on the couch, the short dozes while doing everyday tasks. They aren’t adding up. Steve’s not getting enough sleep and Bucky isn’t ignorant enough to think the serum will stop him from feeling it’s effects.

He considers a mercy move, holding the man in a chokehold until he passes out if only to get him to sleep for a little while. The thought stirs up memories of helicarriers and bullet holes and falling debris and ancient promises, and the idea is suddenly no longer an option.

Finally, almost two weeks after their confrontation in the kitchen, Bucky finds himself standing with his coffee alone, the door to Steve’s room shut firm from a night of disuse. He knows Steve’s inside. He knows he’s in his bed. He just won’t know if he’s actually sleeping or not until later.

...

Bucky’s on the couch watching something or another, flicking popcorn in the air to catch with his mouth, when that familiar thunk of feet pressing into the floor rings out. He glances over when the door opens and there’s Steve, brows scrunched and eyes still closed like the old man he is. When he lumbers over to the couch, Bucky just lifts his arm, hand holding the bowl of cooked kernels, and Steve flops down next to him, head resting on his lap.

“What time is it?”

“ ‘Bout half past seven. Feel any better?”

“No,” Steve murmurs against Bucky’s thigh.

“Good,” Bucky huffs, running his fingers through gold locks. “Now you know to ask for help sooner next time.”

Steve hums something unintelligible as his eyelids squeeze and relax a few times before blinking open. Ocean blue irises flicker around the room, a crease to his forehead as wheels turn in his head. He sits up fast, Bucky quick to catch the bowl pushed from his grip, and stares.

The sun outside is still low but it doesn’t feel right.

“I thought you said it was seven thirty?”

“It is... PM.” Bucky smirks at the face Steve pulls, all round eyes and slack jaw.

“Jeeze, Bucky, I slept the whole day!” His hand falls over his chest, fingers scrunching until they reach up to rub along his neck. “Wow… I haven’t felt like this since…”

“Since we were kids and you nearly died on me every other weekend? I know. You’d make that same face you’re making now,” he chuckles. “You’d pass out, sick, a day or two and me and your ma would be scrambling all around trying to wake you up long enough to eat something. You wouldn’t remember a thing after and when I’d tell you, no, it’s not Tuesday anymore, it’s Friday, you’d make that face.”

Steve smiles, small and dazed. “You used to miss so much school. Bet your ma wouldn’t have liked me as much if she knew just how many days you ditched because of me.”

“Shut up, Ma loved you. She would have understood. Mrs. Rogers had to go work otherwise she wouldn’t’ve been able to pay rent, so I took over taking care of you while she left. Besides, we both still graduated.”

“We could have got our folks in trouble. You knew those laws saying kids had to show up so many days to school.”

“I went a couple more days than you, I would have been fine.”

“ _Bucky_.”

“What? It’s true. But that’s over now, and like I said, we graduated.”

They’re both quiet then, the silence drawing their eyes back to the muted pictures on the television. Bucky’s almost caught on to what’s happening in the scene when Steve whispers something so soft he almost misses it.

“Guess all that attention made me real selfish, huh.”

“What?”

Steve turns stricken, like he didn’t mean to say that out loud. “I didn’t say anything.” His face crumbles at his own lie and he refuses to look and see the eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

“Who the fuck called you selfish?” There’s an edge to his voice Steve recognizes from their childhood. Bucky’s furious.

“No one, Buck, I-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

Bucky growls. “You are not selfish, Steve. Understand? Whoever told you that-”

“I told you no one called me-”

“Then why would you say that?”

“Because I am!” Steve snaps, expression twisting, lips pressed into a grimace.

Bucky watches him, an unreadable look on his face. “How?”

“Please don’t make me say it…”

“You talked to Wilson for five hours straight yesterday and last night you finally got some sleep. It helps, Steve, I have a therapist too in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Talking to a therapist is not the same as talking to you.”

Bucky seals his lips at that, something dark passing over his eyes. Steve sees the way the tension bleeds out of his shoulders and hopes that means the end of this conversation, but then: “It’s me isn’t it? Whatever is messing with you so bad has to do with me. That’s why you won’t say it.”

His voice is so destructively gentle, Steve feels a thousand needles prickle against his skin, horrified.

“No! Bucky, no-”

“I know when you’re lying Steve,” he says in that same martyred tone. “It’s alright, I knew this would happen. It’s not your fault. I’m.. I know I’m not…” He trails off, line of vision wearing down until he’s staring at the half finished bowl of popcorn. He blinks fast, setting the bowl on the coffee table. “I,” he starts, stare blank and throat bobbing. “I’ll be out in three minutes. Just need to… pack my things. Or, I guess I don’t really need them..”

He’s halfway standing when Steve tackles him to the floor, arms wrapped around his back, fingers clutched into the fabric of his t-shirt, head buried in the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“Steve, what the f-”

“ _Stay_.” Bucky’s eyes blow wide when he hears the sob break from Steve’s throat. “Please stay, Bucky, please. Please don’t leave me again. It fucking breaks my heart. Please, please, please.”

And suddenly things seem to click. “Stevie…”

“I can’t take the idea of losing you again, Buck, and it’s driving me insane. I know it’s coming. I’m always losing you- I’m always fucking losing you. The draft, your capture, the train, the helicarrier. You’re always leaving me and it breaks my heart every. fucking. time. Bucky, you don’t know.”

Bucky wraps an arm around Steve tight before lifting them both up into a sitting position. The blond allows himself to be moved, retreating to sit on his legs as his shoulders tremble and his head hangs low. Bucky keeps a firm grip on his neck, thumb rubbing circles into his skin.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The words crash against Steve like a knife to the chest and guilt consumes him, large tear drops spilling over his lashes and down his cheeks. He covers his face with his hands, nails digging into the crevices.

“HEY!" Bucky rips his hands away. "Hey, no! Stop that, Steve, what- I told you I’m not leaving!”

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you all of this!” Steve barks, red-rimmed eyes boring into him.

“Why not?!”

“Because I promised I’d protect you! That I’d never let another person use you. Manipulate you.”

“And?”

“ _I just guilt tripped you into staying with me_!” Steve screams, something shattering behind his eyes. “You deserve a life. You deserve to be happy. With me- I have been nothing but a curse on you, Buck. You’re too fucking nice to leave me behind. You always took care of me, always stood by my side when I’d get into fights. Look where that’s gotten you. You fell…” he chokes, thousand-yard stare reigning hard on his face. “...But then you were suddenly alive again. At the bridge, right in front of me. And I found out everything they did to you… I should have looked for you, I should have jumped after you.”

“Come on, Steve, no,” Bucky tries but Steve cuts him off.

“You jumped for me.” Bucky’s teeth clench shut. “And then you left but I tracked you down because I wanted to see you again so badly. I kept thinking what if HYDRA got you first? Or the KGB? Or the FBI, the CIA? You’d be imprisoned and tortured all over again or killed... I couldn’t let that happen so I went out to find you. I considered you never wanting to see me again - I’m the reason all of this happened to you - but… I kept telling myself it’s better he hate me and be safe than be hunted out on his own. At least here, I knew I could protect you. But I was being selfish. I was just appeasing my own guilt.”

Steve hits the floor before he ever sees Bucky move, but there he was. Bucky on top of him, fists balled around the collar of his shirt, hair draped down like a curtain over them, hiding them. Even in the shade of those brown locks, his eyes still burn bright with fury and passion.

“Why are you downplaying everything you’ve done as something so shallow and empty?”

“It’s what it is.”

“ _Bullshit_! I know what it’s like to be _‘cared’_ for by people who don’t give a shit. Who are just there to keep you alive. Hell, I think some of them actually felt guilty, too, but none of them- None of them ever treated me like you do. That wasn’t guilt driving you, Steve. Not the whole time.”

“Then what-”

“Do you love me?”

Steve feels his heart stop, lungs jerking to a halt. “Wh-”

“Aside from your fucking guilt, is there any other reason you chose to help me? Do you even _like_ me?”

“Of course I love you, Bucky! I-” His eyes go wide, mouth hanging open like he can’t quite believe the words coming out. “Oh,” he breaths, face full of wonder. When he speaks again, it’s slow and deliberate, thoughtful.  “I… love you... I’m in love with you... I’m in love with Bucky.” Cheeks glowing red, Steve flinches as he realizes Bucky is right in front of him. “I, err, wait-”

“You oblivious shit.” Bucky curses and Steve winces under his gaze. “You’re ninety-something years old, Steve. Are you telling me you’re barely figuring this out?”

“ ‘Course not! I always felt this way about you, Buck. I just… didn’t know the right name for it.” Steve snaps his head toward him. “Wait, do you…?”

Bucky sighs, long and tired. “I’m in love with the biggest idiot in Brooklyn.”

“Hey-” Bucky slips closer, lips hovering just over Steve’s. He waits as his eyes search the other’s before sealing the space between them. It’s soft and sweet, something from a dream. Steve’s arms sneak up to curl around Bucky’s neck. When they finally pull apart, Steve runs a hand down Bucky’s jaw, fingers dancing along his day’s worth of stubble. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He presses their foreheads together. “And... you’re not the only one feeling selfish, punk. Can’t hoard all the shame.”

Steve grabs Bucky’s hand, holding them tight. “What are you talking about? You ain’t selfish, Buck, you never ask for anything.”

“ ‘Cause I feel like I’m already receiving too much. Everything you’ve done for me, everything you’re still doing. I’m supposed to believe I deserve all this after what I’ve done?”

“You do. Always. You deserve it all.”

“That’s what you say. But you think you’re helping the guy who fell off the train. I got most his memories, sure, but I don’t feel like I’m him. I’m not him. And I was afraid once you figured that out, you’d regret it all and toss me out. Because to me, that’s what I deserve. But you just kept smiling and telling me everything was gonna be ok, and I honestly believed you. Had no fucking clue who you were, but I believed you. And that’s saying something for someone who was molded to trust no one.” The edge of his lips tug up, a little flicker that fades.

“I knew you weren’t gonna be the same. I didn’t care. Memories or not, you are a good person deep down.” Steve watches those black lashes flutter over cobalt irises. “You pulled me from the river.”

“I didn’t know why I did it.”

“That’s okay. There’s a lot of reasons you could have done it, the point is you did it. That’s why I went after you.”

“So you admit it wasn’t just guilt?”

His lips pull into a thin line, expression considering. “Guilt. Joy. Redemption Outrage. I just knew I missed you like crazy.”

“I’m not _me_ though. The me you knew.”

“Maybe not completely, but you don’t give yourself enough credit. Getting to know you since you moved in, there are moments when it feels like we’re both back in Brooklyn, you moving around the couch cushions real slow so the dust won’t irritate my lungs.”

Bucky snorts, that small smile stretching wide, free at last. “You were so damn fragile, I swear.”

“But I’m not anymore.” Steve says in all seriousness now. “That little blond kid in those memories, I’m not him anymore either. In some ways I’ll always be him, just like in some ways you’ll always be you. For the most part, though, we’ve changed. Everyone does. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing. See what I’m trying to say?”

Bucky looks at him a moment, seeing something with those big beautiful eyes. “Yeah. I get it.”

“Good. And just to be clear,” Steve steals another kiss from Bucky’s lips, making it long yet still so chaste, “when I tell you ‘I love you,’ I’m not saying it to old Bucky. I’m saying it to you. I. love. _you.”_

Bucky smiles that crooked grin Steve loves so much. “Good to know.” Steve suddenly makes a strange face, nose scrunching and lips twisting in. Sure enough, the yawn breaks through. Bucky laughs, loud and open. “Alright, kid, let’s get you back to bed.”

“Mmm...” Steve whines. “Stay with me till I fall asleep?”

“You got it, pal.”

“...And after?”

“So long as you want me.”

“I’ll always want you, Buck.”

“That’s good ‘cause I don’t ever wanna leave. We can both be a little selfish and it all works out for the better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky dips his hand under the bend of Steve’s legs, scooping the giant mass off the floor with ease. Steve’s snickering into Bucky’s shoulder and the sergeant kicks open the door, dropping the blond of his bed.

“Wow. I rarely ever get to see inside your room.” Steve’s head twists in each direction, getting a good look of the area.  

“Our room,” Bucky almost stutters, cheeks burning bright. “I don’t-... I want it to be our room. Or I could move my stuff into your room, either way, I just,” he sighs, fidgeting in his place. “I wanna stay with you until you fall asleep every night, not just when I have nightmares or you can’t sleep. And I wanna stay after, because I want you too, Stevie.”

Steve feels a warmth radiating behind his ribs, it’s heat pouring through his veins with a golden glow. He grins, teeth pulling over those pearly whites.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Little extra note now that you've read it: I noticed the pattern of Bucky leaving/being taken away before Civil War came out, so at the end when **SPOILERS** Bucky chooses to go back into cryo, officially leaving Steve AGAIN, my shipper heart wept. Those damn writers know how to punch me in the feels...) Anyways, yes, hope you enjoyed. Leave kudos if you did, a comment if you'd like. I'm a sucker for feedback. Thanks ya'll, merry reading! :)


End file.
